Someone really wise, more wise than me at least, once said that it doesn’t matter whether the chains are gold or iron they are still chains. To that I would add that it doesn’t matter whether the intention was holy or not: terror is still terror. On 11 September 2001 it became holy terror.

The evil, which lives in the minds of these men has already defined this war. It is not a war to be won with bombs and troops. It started with knives on our own benign domestic airplanes. This war began with the planes’ own fuel which became bombs in the hands of evil men. Now it continues with Anthrax and the means to deliver it as well through our own US Postal Service. This war is not being fought in Afghanistan; it is being fought here. We’re just bombing Afghanistan because the history of military conflict precursors an initial assault, which mimics the last war, especially if you won the last war that way.

We have the great, good fortune here at King of the Mountain of speaking to some of the United States Military Special Warfare (SpecWar) teams that use our Omnitherm® and Omnilite® clothing. We’re very proud that they are on our side. We are very proud that they have chosen our gear.

We are very proud because we know personally what it means to send a loved one into harm’s way. There is a special terror that a family feels when they watch Dad grab only the black bag and head out the door or hug everyone goodbye at the base gate. It is a quiet terror that can’t be appreciated until you’ve been there. I had finally all but forgotten what it felt and looked like until September 11, 2001.

I remember when I was a kid that feeling of knowing that I could see in the faces of the other ones who were left. We all suddenly became the ones waiting for news, any news; families quietly gleaning each radio and TV broadcast. We would sit together in the kitchen in the morning before school listening intently. Then we would sit again together watching the TV news at night. Then we would try to be first to get the mail, disappointed if no letter came that day.

I remember after a while only hearing the sound of the radio and tone of the speaker-not really listening for the meaning of what was being said, but waiting only for the mention of one name or the name of one location- the one that belongs to my dad, their mother, his sister, her brother, and our friend. Because when the news announcer says, “Missiles hit the American Air Force base at Thon Son Nhut this morning. There were 76 American wounded and two American casualties.” The announcer never follows by saying that neither the wounded nor the casualties were YOUR Dad. Then you wonder and pray that the car with two officers isn’t driving down the street to your house. And you go back to the mailbox, the radio and the TV for some word because in the end some word is still better than not knowing at all.

Yeah, I’m a Blue Star son- my dad came home. He survived Pearl Harbor, Korea and Vietnam. He saved my bacon ass from Vietnam by insisting that he had done enough and that I would go to college or fight him in the street. You didn’t want to fight that old sergeant anywhere let alone the street. One of my good friends was a Gold Star son. I was there the day that the car with two officers pulled into his driveway. I can still hear his mom’s screams and their crying as I ran down the driveway toward home.

On 11 September we all lost our innocence. The faces of hope and despair and anxious waiting have a look that I remember all too well. Wars seldom skip generations and I now have three sons who are 18, 16 and 11. I have that same quiet, anxious fear again. This time it is not different. This time we will be tested. This time we will have to find out what our appeasement and lack of resolve as a nation will cost—AGAIN-- in the lives of those we hold most dear: The lives of our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers and friends.

When you see an American soldier today, please stop him long enough to tell him how truly grateful you are for his protection. He or she volunteered for the privilege of protecting you and your family. He or she needs to know that you care about them just like your own son or daughter. They need to know that we have all learned that it will get tough out there before it gets better. When the bombing there doesn’t stop the terror here, he will still have to fight. When our leaders don’t make perfect decisions but those decisions cost us our children, will you be willing to send yours? And then will you be willing to see the next one go as well? When the battle over there isn’t done, he will still want to come home. Will you spit on his homecoming like you did when he was my dad?

To Dad it didn’t matter that he was spit on. When asked what he did for a living he never said, “I’m in the service.” Nor did he ever say, ”I’m in the military.” He always looked them in the eye and then he would calmly and with pride reply, “I’m a Senior Master Sergeant in the United States Air Force.” There were times that it embarrassed me then.

We flew the American flag every day rain or shine Flag Day or holiday. It’s a tradition I continue. When there were those calling for a law to ban the burning of an American flag I asked him what he thought. He said, “What difference does it make?” That surprised me and I asked,” Doesn’t it make you mad?” He said, ”Son, they’re not burning this one so there will always be one to put in that one’s place.” That was a confusing lesson then.

This year King of the Mountain is a proud sponsor of “Carry The Flame”. In partnership with Gold Star Mothers of America, Blue Star Mothers of America, The Women’s Vietnam Veterans Memorial Project and Rolling Thunder, Inc. we "Carry the Flame" for our fallen, our veterans, our missing in action, our prisoners of war, our sons, daughters, friends, families and the dream of peace. The Flame comes from all corners of the United States and is carried by people of all races, religions, and genders to light the torch of peace at the Rolling Thunder Candlelight Vigil held at The Wall on the Friday evening before Memorial Day. The torch is lit in memory of all who served and all who sent their loved ones into harm's way for the cause of peace.

To join us call me. My number at King of the Mountain is 970 962-9306 ext 103. Or you can email me at king@kingofthemountain.com. Or, you can just show up. The Vietnam Memorial, THE WALL is on The Mall in Washington, DC. Bring a candle to represent everyone for whom you “Carry The Flame”. We’ll be there rain or shine and so will about 350,000 other bikes and about 500,000 along the parade route on Sunday. Don’t worry- you’ll be able to find us- you’ve never seen or heard anything like it before.